


It's That Time of the Year Again

by michaelWayland



Series: Mentor? More Like High Profile Dad in Disguise [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelWayland/pseuds/michaelWayland
Summary: "I don't want you to be sorry." Mr. Stark snapped. "I want you to be thankful."Peter can hear the crickets go wild inside Flash's head. Truth be told, he was puzzled too."I want you," Mr. Stark said in a low voice, his cold glare against his fearful ones, "To thank every deity you know on the fact that I don't hit minors."Peter isn't sure what exactly should he be afraid of: the fact that he barely studied for the Decathlon team test or the fact that Flash would stop at nothing to earn his spot on the main team.





	It's That Time of the Year Again

**Author's Note:**

> This went wayyyy longer than i anticipated. This is my first attempt at angst, so please bear with me.

Peter can't help but feel like today is going to be a great day.

His alarm woke him up, but there was no urge to hit snooze and try to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. He just sat up, turned it off, then dutifully headed for the shower. He traced a finger on a spot on his chest, beneath his collarbone. The bruise from the night before was gone. He earned it after trying to stop two biker gangs from killing each other. He initially tried to act like a mediator, but the attempt didn't work; the bikers would rather hurl insults at him than spill what really is the issue between the two of them. The mockery turned into taunts, which eventually ended up to him being literally pushed around.

Seeing that handling the situation as diplomatically as possible isn't in the options anymore, Peter resorted to the alternative and started webbing all the members' feet up on the pavement. Some of them managed to land a good hit on him — which is how he got the bruise — but he pinned them to the cold pavement with ease. He said his goodbyes to the group and swung on top of the nearest building. He tipped 911 about the gang war before heading off.

Peter wore one of his science pun shirts today. His humming, combined with the ruffles of the material of his clothing, soothed him. Today was a peaceful day. The sunlight is streaming into his window, and while the busy New York traffic isn't exactly music to his ears, it did brought a sense of familiarity to him. He then contemplated whether he should wear the luxury watch Mr. Stark has given to him. It gives off a sharp glint of silver whenever light hits it, and it probably costs more than three months' worth of apartment rent. Peter never had a thing for anything flashy, but he strapped the watch on his wrist anyway. It's probably a bad idea to let the watch that has more value than their living quarters accumulate dust on his desk. That, and he'll also be going to the tower today to work on upgrades since today's Friday.

Peter grabbed his homework out of his desk. He was rather proud of himself, being able to finish two papers in one sitting during the night. He securely tucked it inside his backpack. He compromised a few hours of patrol in favor of the homework, so he can't afford to lose either of them. Again. He then checked his phone, and he has two unread messages one from Ned and one from MJ. Ned is asking him about the calculus homework Peter graciously finished ahead of time earlier in the week, while MJ was just a good morning greeting in MJ fashion. Smiling at himself, he made sure his ringer is off before slipping the phone to his pocket. He slung his backpack on his shoulders and headed for the door.

Before Peter can go out of his room, he recalled that he brought his dinner into his desk for the night. Cursing, he went back for his desk and sure enough, a single plate crusted with crumbs from the night before was waiting for him expectantly. He grabbed it and went outside to the kitchen, where he laid it down on the sink.

Aunt May seemed to sense his good mood. She teased him about it and  kissed his forehead, which made him giggle, and ruffled his hair before nudging him to have a seat. She served him pancakes and she took the seat across him.

"My shift today starts at 3." May informed him. "I won't be home until, like, eleven, so I'll just leave you some money on the fridge for take out later."

"Thanks, May." Peter nodded at her while eating the pancakes. Only one of them is burnt, and surprisingly, only a few patches are barely soggy. Peter whimpered in delight. His day is shaping up to be the best, indeed.

Aunt May raised an eyebrow at him. "Be mindful of your curfew." She warned playfully.

"Of course." He smiled at her reassuringly. Aunt May still disapproves of him being Spiderman at night, but she made it clear she supports him regardless. Whenever he gets home, she'll ask about his patrol and if he somehow injured himself. She'd praise him for a job well done, even while she's treating his healing wounds with a painful look on her face.

Peter could never lie and especially not on the spot. It's one of those things he'd like to change on his self. When May found him trying the new suit Mr. Stark made for him, she freaked out, and he was too freaked out to cook up a half-assed lie inside his mind, so he just spilled.

Aunt May had made specific ground rules he'd have to obey otherwise she'll ground Spiderman herself. Peter can only patrol three times at most every week, and he's supposed to be home by ten. Peter can understand her reasoning for the compromise, so he found it rather easy to agree on her terms. Besides, May is encouraging him to stay up late on his no-patrol nights, either for studying or for hanging out and spending time with either Ned, MJ or both (although he feels bad for making a third wheel out of his best friend) or for actual Stark internship with Mr. Stark in his lab himself where he gets to give his input on Mr. Stark's works as well as tinker with both their suits either for upgrade or repair. It's a win-win.

He plugged his earphones in and made sure it's at a low volume because his enhanced hearing won't appreciate loud audio input. He kissed May on the cheek goodbye, and he headed for the subway.

It was only 7:30 when he reached the school grounds. He didn't miss the train, and, as if his day couldn't get any better, Flash isn't waiting for him at the entrance. When he arrived at his locker, however, his senses started going haywire. He stared at the locker as if it were hot flames and he was a moth drawn to it despite the danger it poses. Peter shook himself. There's no way his locker is rigged by something lethal. He did his best to shrug it off. He came to a conclusion that his senses are a bit off today. How can his locker pose danger? It was a good day. Gulping, he reached out for the lock and used his password to unlock it.

He opened it slowly when the lock clicked off, and Peter yelped as a water balloon the size of his fist launched out. He jumped back almost instantly, hence why the balloon hit him square on the chest.The thing exploded on impact, and cold water splashed his shirt. When he felt the cold burst on to him as his shirt clung to him like skin, he felt his body shake. His vision started dimming, hence why he closed his eyes, and suddenly, he isn't in the hallways anymore. He is in that freezing lake again, tangled in his own parachute. The numbing sensation running down his limbs turned them to lead as the chute seemed to drag him down further into the depths despite him desperately trying to resurface.

He leaned on to the lockers to steady himself. Ignoring the laughter around him, he held his breath in an effort to stabilize it as his blood is pounding in his ears and his heart tries to jump out of his chest. He felt his lungs slowly betray him, and it didn't helped on the cold water dripping down. His breath came in hushed, short puffs of air as his chest heaved trying to inhale more.

Peter focused his senses on the solid floor beneath him and on the cold metal of the lockers. He felt the sleek surface of the lockers, and he tested the hardness of the tiles under him by tapping his foot as he replayed Mr. Stark prodding him to breathe for him inside his head.

Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale...

His breath gradually returns back to an acceptable rhythm, although they still come in deep huffs but at least his chest stopped heaving, and the tremor that rocks his body was reduced to small shocks that jolted him.

When he finally composed himself, Peter then stared at his locker. There was a mechanism made out of sticks and rubber bands linked to the door so the projectile will be launched the moment the locker is opened. Now that he felt slightly better, the laughter around him becomes too audible. He did his best to block the words out, but he can only do so much.

He grabbed his chemistry book before slamming the locker shut. Peter headed for the bathroom with his head down. He does not want to see anyone looking down at him.

Peter didn't want to think about how Flash got access to his locker password, or how he managed to booby trap his locker in a short amount of time. As he rid himself of his shirt and replaced it with his hoodie — he was thankful he didn't wear it over the shirt — he remembered what day is it today.

His grip on his backpack tightened. Of course.

Every semester, the Decathlon team would reorganize its main members according to their performance. Whoever gets benched, whoever gets to represent the school, is determined by a written exam about all the things they covered in their trainings and review sessions.

They are all supposed to take that test today, and Flash is sick and tired of being First Alternate.

Now, Peter treated Flash' antics like it's one of the things that has to happen in order for his day to be considered normal. After all, they usually consist of jeers and Grade A insults, but on this time of the semester, Flash isn't having any of it. He'd do whatever it takes to get himself in the main team, even if it means dragging him to the pits himself.

Peter took small steps on the way to his chemistry class. He braced himself for the boring lecture, and for whatever Flash has in store for him for the rest of the day.

Mr. Harrington excused him on his second period, which is English much to his relief, to take the exam. Peter excused himself to return his book to his locker.

When he arrived at his destination, dread gnawed at his stomach again. Peter isn't sure if it's because he under-studied for this, or it's because his paranoia is telling him that Flash would be on his ass. Sighing, he fished a water bottle out of his bag and drank half of its contents in huge gulps. His nerves still feel frayed, but the dread settled down.

MJ, being the team captain, is probably in the venue ahead of all of them. Ned would be arriving from the next building where he takes his language elective at this time of the day, so the odds of Peter walking with either of them is practically at zero. He steeled himself as he wandered around the hallways, his feet taking him to their venue in a daze. At the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar figure of Flash. Peter immediately  turned to his side and opted for a longer route, but he is too late. Flash has already noticed him. "Hey, Penis!" He called out. Peter slowly halted in his tracks. He did his best to appear indifferent as he met Flash's withering gaze. "What do you want?"

"Fancy watch you got there, Penis." Flash draped his arm on his shoulder. Peter squirmed, but Flash held him firmly as he led them to the nearest bathroom. When they are finally inside, he opened his palm. "I'd like to see that for myself."

Peter closed his hand over his wrist defensively. "No."

"Don't be like that." Flash taunted. He yanked Peter's arm and unfastened the watch himself. Pre-bite Peter would watch helplessly as Flash harassed him, so that's what he did. Peter pursed his lips to keep them from trembling.

"Hefty." Flash weighed the watch on his palm while holding Peter back with the other. "Eh, probably a knockoff."

In another life, Peter would rub into Flash's face that the watch probably costs as much as his car. But there's no way Flash would believe him, even if he got the snark in him, which he doesn't.

"Well, it's that or this belongs to your dead uncle." Flash mused. He held it against the light, and he beamed at how shiny it is. "Your aunt is pretty damn stupid to give something as sentimental as this to somebody like you." Flash held his gaze, and Peter flinched. A snide smirk formed on his lips. "This means a lot to her, don't you think? But for this to end up on the wrist of a liability, a pathetic wimp so useless the bullet that killed her husband proves to be more useful? Either she's as stupid as her nephew or he's being a kleptomaniac like the freak he is."

Flash let a trembling Peter go and faced one of the open stalls. Without a second thought, he tossed the watch straight into the toilet bowl and howled in delight when it landed with a plop.

"No!" Peter completely ignored his jelly knees nor his tears flowing freely after being held for so long and lunged for the watch, a cry tearing out his throat. Flash tripped him, and he was falling face first onto the bathroom floor.

"Oh, don't tell me you're gonna dig up the watch." Flash grimaced. "I did the poor thing a favor by putting it where it belongs."

Flash's footsteps and childlish cackles were drowned by the sound of his heart pounding wildly in his ears. Peter crawled inside the stall, completely oblivious of the fact that his legs are still functional.

Peter dunked his hand inside the bowl, and he flinched when the cold, filthy water lapped at his bare skin. He clasped the watch with clumsy fingers as soon as he got a hold of the cool metal. He inspected it; the hands are still moving without a beat to miss. Peter found himself sighing in relief. He is not surprised that the watch is waterproof. Peter made no effort in stopping his tears — he just leaned his back against the wall and hugged his knees. He rocked himself as he held himself, a vain attempt to stop the tremors rocking every inch of his body.  
  


Peter is ten minutes late.

Everyone is staring at him — at his puffy red eyes, at his blotchy face. Flash scrunched his nose in exaggeration when he saw him. "I smell shit." Most of the stares turned to mocking sneers. Most.

Ned looks like he wants to jump out of his seat to console Peter. MJ is too busy glaring daggers at Flash, her grip on her pen firm but tight.

Mr. Harrington looks concerned, but he masked it with a clipped professional tone. "You are late, Mr. Parker." He sternly pointed out.

Peter went to his armchair. "Yeah, I made a bathroom break." He smiled apologetically as he dropped his backpack on the floor and fumbled for his pen.

Normally, Peter would be rambling anxiously about it, weaving a sorry in between his sentences profusely while he's at it. He didn't, and that's how Ned immediately knew something was off.

Mr. Harrington handed him his questionnaire. Before giving out his answer sheet, he produced a red pen and marked a large -10 on the top left of his paper.

"Rules are rules, Mr. Parker." He smiled as if to reassure him as he handed the sheet to Peter. Peter made a painful attempt to return the gesture, so he settled for nodding earnestly.

"Jesus, Parker, did you wipe?!" Flash groaned a little too loud.

Peter mumbled a yes. Flash furrowed his eyebrows, "Sorry, what? I don't speak —"

MJ's pen went flying across the room, hitting Flash successfully on the forehead. He stringed out cusses as he rubbed the area in circular motions as the pen bounced to the floor.

MJ reached for her bag and produced another pen, looking as passive as she'll ever be. Peter probably is the only one who noticed that she's curling her fingers on her right hand. "Do you mind keeping that mouth shut, Eugene?" She snapped. She averted her focus on her sheet. "I'm trying to answer my test in peace."

Mr. Harrington ended up reprimanding her.

Thanks to her little stunt during the test, MJ was forced to eat her lunch at the detention room. Peter was left alone with Ned on their lunch table, which isn't a bad thing except Ned wouldn't stop bombarding him with questions and honestly? He's starting to get tired of appeasing the mother hen that is Ned. His constant falls reassurance has been told so many times he's starting to believe it. But he can't stop protecting the little guy now. Only he can take on Flash's antics he's got the healing factor after all.

"You do know you can just kick his ass, right?" Ned pointed out.

Peter sighed exasperatedly. "Ned, I never kicked his ass before the bite. I'm not kicking his ass now."

Ned winced. "Why not?"

Peter has a lot of reasons in mind. He opted for the safest answer he can think of. "That's a bad way to blow a cover, Ned."

The rest of his classes went like a breeze. MJ excused him during his Calculus class, which he was thankful for. It's 2 pm, and his mind is dozing off somewhere in the Stark Tower.

MJ handed him his test results with a warm smile. Beside the big fat ugly minus ten mark is a 'Congratulations' stamp. He then glanced at his score.

88 over a hundred. Peter held down his happiness inside his chest by pulling MJ and hugging her close to him, inhaling her scent as he giggled like a boy getting his first Christmas present from santa. MJ patted him encouragingly on the back. "Yeah. You're putting up with me for another semester, loser."

Peter chuckled. MJ broke free of the hug and held him at arm's length. His eyes are smiling, yet there is something sad tucked away in them. "Flash is stuck in first alternate. Again." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. It eased the tension he's feeling in his bones, for a while. She then gave him a playful nudge. "Now, did you really shit yourself awhile ago?" She asked, more serious now.

Peter opted for an embarrassed smile. "Yeah."

MJ looks like she doesn't buy it. She tried to push it, thought better of it, then waved her hand dismissively. "Just tell me when Flash is messing with you again, okay?"

"Why? So you can go to detention again?" Peter joked. As soon as the words got out, his guilt chewed at him. MJ going to detention for standing up for him is a first. He can't help but think it's his fault.

"Mrs. Hudson is looking at us." MJ returned her gaze back to Peter. "You better get back. She'll sack you."

"Okay." Peter hesitantly opened the door and went inside.

"Loser!" MJ hissed. Peter glanced at her. She mouthed,  _Love you._

Grinning, he mouthed back.  _Larb you, too._

MJ rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, back on the hunt again for the other members so she can hand their results.   
  


When Peter went out to the parking lot, the familiar Audi isn't around. He immediately checked his phone. Happy hasn't texted him. He's probably too busy to pick him up. Shrugging, he decided to take the subway upstate. He should at least show up to Mr. Stark today. That way he won't be as useless as he usually is.

"Penis Parker!" Flash howled behind him. Peter felt his blood leave his body, and he started walking faster. Flash and his goons jogged up to catch him, though. They flanked him, but Peter won't meet their gaze. "Leave me alone, Flash." He quietly said. He tried to step forward, but Flash blocked his path.

"Aww, don't be like that." Flash taunted. "We just wanna talk."

His goons started pushing him until he's stumbling on a lone alleyway. Dumpsters line the dingy walls, and the stink of garbage assaulted his nose. He fought the urge to puke his guts.

"What do you want?" Peter snarled. The boys cornered him into the wall.

Flash stepped forward. "One thing." He held up a finger. "We just want to know how you fuck MJ."

Peter's vision began to dim.

"I mean," Flash went on, "Obviously the only reason you, Penis Parker, still managed to be in the A Team because you're fucking the team captain. So,  tell us." Flash jabbed his finger on his shoulder, pushing Peter further on. A few more steps and he'll be leaning against an open dumpster.

"C'mon, Penis." Flash taunted with a wicked grin. His goons closed in further, making him feel claustrophobic. "I never would have thought you have the balls to fuck your way to the top. Share us your secret." The jabbing starts to get harder. It's starting to hurt. Peter bit his lip and did his best to hold his gaze against Flash. That's what Pre-Bite Peter does, and he isn't gonna break tradition now.

Peter's ears picked up the familiar  whirring of one of Mr. Stark's armors when they get attached. He gasped, and there was a bolt of beam that homed on the brick wall inches above them, leaving a hiss and a trail of smoke in the process.

They all gawked at the source. The man ditched his baseball cap and tucked his sunglasses on his Metallica shirt. They all stifled another gasp when Tony Stark exposed himself as the attacker.

Peter stared at his gauntlet. It must be linked to his watch, a disguise of sorts.

"T-Tony Stark." Flash stuttered.

"In the flesh." Mr. Stark stepped forward, and they all backed down save for Peter, who was still dumbfounded. He deactivated his gauntlet. "And you must be Flash Thompson." Tony hummed under his throat. "I've heard about you."

Flash's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Mr. Stark shrugged. He was standing inches away from Flash now. "I have my sources." He spared a glance at Peter. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Flash mustered with confidence. He straightened his posture.

Mr. Stark ran a hand on Flash's collar. He smoothed it down. "I've heard about how brilliant you are."

Flash managed a nervous chuckle. "Thanks."

"Don't be." Mr. Stark growled. He tugged at his collar a bit too harshly, making Flash yelp. He then proceeded to tame Flash's hair. "Your brilliance has a place. Not in Stark Industries, no." He took his time smoothing down wild tufts of his hair. Flash gulped a lump in his throat. "So Pen- uh - Peter really is your intern?"

"Yeah." Mr. Stark grabbed Flash by his shoulders. He squeezed them gently. "Peter is one of a kind, you see. He makes a mean sandwich and he knows his way around a coffee maker. I'd even let him design new features for some of my suits." He then proceeded to smooth down non existent wrinkles on his shoulder. "In comparison, your brilliance, on the other hand, would make a good Doctor Phil episode about conceited bullies who are basically empty tin cans — the emptier the can, the louder the noise it makes."

Mr. Stark slipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He took a deep breath and smiled at Flash, but his eyes are far colder than the lake that night. "Peter here is simply on a whole different level. Why don't you try picking on someone in your league?" He mocked, disdain dripping on every word he says. "And by that, I mean your goons over here. I'm sure they know a thing or two about being brilliantly conceited shit stains. Or." He cupped his chin, as if he's thinking. "You can pick on the third graders in your grade school since I may have noticed that your prowess for insult is on their level. Seriously?" Mr. Stark sneered. "Penis Parker? I've heard eight year olds come up with better insults."

Flash's goons snickered at him. He, on the other hand, was shaking from head to toe. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I-"

"I don't want you to be sorry." Mr. Stark snapped. "I want you to be thankful."

Peter can hear the crickets go wild inside Flash's head. Truth be told, he was puzzled too.

"I want you," Mr. Stark said in a low voice, his cold glare against his fearful ones, "To thank every deity you know on the fact that I don't hit minors."  
  


"You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark." Peter sighed. He hugged himself in the comfort of the backseat. Mr. Stark has went as far as renting a car to be lowkey. In hindsight, the paparazzi would have a field day once they got tipped that Mr. Stark in all his glory confronted high school bullies at a shady looking alley. His lab day outfit paired with a rugged baseball cap and Ray Bans would at least spare him from second glasses from most people.

Mr. Stark glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Why not?"

"I can handle it."

"Yes, you were doing a great job at that." He angrily honked at a car who just tried to overtake them without knowing that a turn signal exists. "You would've landed in that dumpster gracefully."

Peter stared at the window, feeling ashamed of himself. Mr. Stark, of all people, had to get him out of trouble he unintentionally signed up for. "Where's Happy?"

"I made him take a day off." Mr. Stark said, his grip choking the wheel. "When FRIDAY pinged me for the fifth time that you are in trouble."

Peter glanced at his mentor, who swerved at a parking lot, scouting for a potential slot. "What do you mean I'm in trouble?"

"Kid, would you mind ordering cholesterol for us in the counter later?" Tony sidetracked as he finally found a spot. "Tony Stark in McDonalds." He muttered, "Sure, Jan."

"Of course, Mr. Stark." Peter affirmed in a small voice. He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Mr. Stark put the cap and the sunglasses back on when they got out of the car. "What do you feel like eating?"

Peter blinked. "I'm not hungry." His own stomach complained at him and growled loudly. Tony chuckled. "Your stomach's being cranky during the trip. Might as well feed it.?

Mr. Stark handed him a hundred dollar bill and insisted he keep the change. One hundred dollars is too much for a McDonalds meal, but Peter is too tired to point that out. Besides, he knew better than to argue against Mr. Stark when he is feeling generous — there's just no way he'll win. "I'll have whatever you have." Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder and proceeded to find a table.

Peter ended up ordering a pair of double cheese burgers with a side of chicken nuggets and two extra large fries. He ordered Coke by default, since he doesn't know what brand of soda Mr. Stark patronizes. Mr. Stark cringed at the greasy, oily meal on Peter's plastic tray. "Lordy." He pursed his lips as he plucked french fries out of the tray. "Is it too late for me to get a neat heart disease? I hope not." He then unwrapped the burger and took a bite.

"Sorry." Was all Peter could muster. He anxiously nibbled at the nuggets. Of course Mr. Stark wouldn't appreciate fastfood.

"Remind me to remind you that apologizing for no good reason is completely unnecessary." He took a sip on his soda. He eyed the nuggets, but ultimately heading for the fries again.

Peter stared at his meal. No way does he deserve any of this.  He's just being a liability again. It's pretty evident that Mr. Stark has better things to do, yet here he is eating grease with some kid from Queens.

"What do you mean I'm in trouble?" Peter echoed, not knowing else what to say.

Mr. Stark glanced at him. He jerked his chin towards the watch. "I may have planted a heart rate monitor in your flashy watch before I gave it to you."

Peter absent-mindedly scratched at the watch's glass. "Why?"

Mr. Stark chewed wholeheartedly on a nugget before answering, "So I can keep tabs on you even when you're out of your spandex."

Peter pursed his lips. "You don't have to do that."

Mr. Stark paused. He took his time to choose his words. "No," he nodded, "But I want to."

"Why?"

Mr. Stark sighed. He seemed to age a bit more as the conversation dragged on, or maybe it's because of the grease. "Karen informed me that you tend to be in distress. Knowing you, you don't want to talk about it and I understand, but I can't keep myself in the dark when it regards to you because..." Mr. Stark took another sip of his drink, "...I don't think Hot May wouldn't appreciate it if I can't give her a concrete reason for whatever it is you've been dealing with while she busts my eardrums."  _Fathers must always know their sons like the back of their hand,_ Tony kept the thought lingering at the back of his tongue.

"Your heart rate spiked to unacceptable levels at five points during your day at school." Mr. Stark rambled on, much to Peter's shock. "You stabilized yourself, good work on that, but when Friday alerted me for the fifth time, I knew something is going on."

Mr. Stark wiped his mouth with a napkin. "So, Flash." He clasped his hands on the table. "How long has he been bothering you?"

Peter considered. He traced Flash's pursuit all the way back to his freshman year. "F-freshman. Freshman year." He sputtered. "But it wasn't that bad, though. I can —"

Tony raised a finger. "I'm gonna stop you right there." He took another pause, "Does your aunt know?"

"No! No." Peter fumbled for his words. "It just isn't a big deal. Besides, May has something better to do than deal wi-with teenage st-stuff."

"Do any of your teachers know?"

Peter shook his head slowly.

"Why?"

Peter exhaled. "Flash would come for me for being a tattletale."

"This Flash kid would come for you for existing." Mr. Stark retorted. "Why won't you fight back? Because you had to protect the little guys?"

Peter nodded. "It's me or some unfortunate kid who can't heal fast."

"Your Enhanced Regeneration Insurance only covers physical injuries." Mr. Stark sternly pointed out. "Weren't you oriented by your agent about that?"

Peter didn't said a word. His eyes wandered around the table. Mr. Stark picked that up and nudged his tray towards him. Peter stared at him with wide eyes. "Go on." Mr. Stark prodded. "I'm stuffed."

"Me too." He squeaked in time for his stomach to grumble.

"A little stomach told me you're lying." Tony smiled. "Stuff yourself up."

The sun is setting by the time they got out of the chain. Mr. Stark didn't urged him to talk about the topic more, and Peter was grateful for it.

"We're moving the lab day tomorrow." Mr. Stark said as he got in the car. "Don't forget to tell Hot May."

Peter just stood there awkwardly, toying with the straps of his backpack while gaining interest on his shoes.

Mr. Stark frowned at him. "Get in. I'm driving you home."

Peter shook his head and smiled apologetically. "No, it's okay Mr. Stark. I can just take the subway." He gestured at the underground staircase leading to the station as he rambled. "Really, I can do that much and besides I think you've got better things to do and I don't wanna be a huge liability so please just —" Peter halted. Did he just said that out loud? He clamped his hand to his mouth and stared at Mr. Stark, who looks just as astonished, in horror.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." He unlocked the door to the passenger seat. "The flight isn't leaving until all the passengers are on board. C'mon."

Peter heaved a sigh. There really is no going around a generous Tony Stark.

Mr. Stark tuned in to an Alternative music radio station. Rock music blared softly inside the quiet car throughout the trip. The busy city lights of New York flooded his eyes, and the traffic is as nosy as ever. There was no road rage, though, so Peter ought to be happy about that.

A few minutes later, they are parallel-parked in front of Peter's apartment building. Tony broke the silence between them.

"I take it Flash insisted you're nothing but a liability to anyone?" Peter winced at how Mr. Stark put it, but his silence — which is so unlike him — was the answer he needed. "Kid, I'll be saying something about that so please look at me."

He did, and with furrowed eyebrows. Mr. Stark shrugged. "Manners and all that jazz."

Peter mouthed an 'oh'. He obediently shifted so his upper body is facing his mentor. He met Mr. Stark's tired but warm gaze.

"Straight A's you can get in your sleep, a good boyfriend to that MJ girl I've yet to meet, and probably a good best friend to your guy-in-the-chair as well as an exceptional nephew to your unusually attractive aunt." Mr. Stark took a deep breath. "Only a businessman who wants to see his company fall before him would call that a liability. Now, should I also point out about your web formula you brewed in a chemistry class which you've yet to top, or the one where you can keep up with Stark Industries jargon and help me on refining my suits among oothers or should I let you take your time to appreciate all those things by yourself?"

Mr. Stark reached out. Peter's eyes lit up in recognition and shifted back so he can have access to the door. He didn't expect Mr. Stark to look at him incredulously. "I'm aiming for a hug, kid. I'm fairly confident you know your way around a car door."

Peter's body shook. His suppressed giggles turned to loud laughter, which infected Mr. Stark. It felt good, especially after his awfully long day. He lost himself to their laughter resonating inside a rent-a- car. For every laugh he gets out of his lungs, he felt his insides go lighter gradually. Peter wrapped his arms around him and let himself get lost in the warmth of comfort he felt he knew years ago but somehow lost it, chuckling. "Thanks, Mr. Stark." He said after catching his breath. "For the ride. For...everything."

"Oh, no." Mr. Stark let him go, eyes sparkling. "This stuff ain't free kid."

Peter's shoulders sagged. Mr. Stark rubbed him there for comfort. "Hey, you can repay me easily."

"How?"

"By dropping the whole Mr. Stark formality. Seriously, I don't need to feel old when I'm around you."

Peter was relieved to hear that; while he is more than willing to repay Mr. Stark any way he can, he just doesn't think he is capable.

"Thanks for the ride, um, Tony." Peter tested. He ended up giggling afterwards.

"Alright, tell Hot May I said hi." Tony gestured for the door. Peter hesitantly got out. When he reached the front door and is about to ring his aunt, he realized that Tony hasn't left yet. He waved his hand to him. Tony grinned and waved back.

Later that evening, when Peter is nose-deep in his essay for history class due on monday, Tony texted him a picture. It was a snap of his lab — some of his armor are in the background, while Dum E, as well as some of his tools are in the foreground. A text message shortly came afterward,

_Sometimes I find it annoying that my inventions tell me what I wanna hear. I could use a far healthier banter — rambles aren't bad too._

**Author's Note:**

> Do you guys have any ideas about any story plot for this series? Let me know in the comments below.


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